


Sad Country Songs

by The WinneplaneO Girls (beckers), thelunaticfringe



Category: The OC
Genre: Angst, Country songs make me cry, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckers/pseuds/The%20WinneplaneO%20Girls, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelunaticfringe/pseuds/thelunaticfringe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I love you, Ryan.  Even if you didn’t—wouldn’t—love me back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sad Country Songs

**Author's Note:**

> Sad stuff... From 2003.

            I don’t know if they’ll make me feel any better, but they damn sure couldn’t make me feel any worse.  I made a fool of myself today, and I don’t think anything can make it any better.  Other than the earth opening up and swallowing me whole. 

_What I Need—Julie Reeves_  

            That’s a good one—it’s the one that I’ve been living for a long time.   _What I want is to hold you, ‘cause my world without you is just another lonely place to be._   Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.  My life was empty before you came into it.  When Dad brought you home, it was like instant best friend.  Just add video games and a pool house, and voila!  I was no longer alone. 

_Killin’ Time—Clint Black_  

            Another classic.  The one I’m living right now.   _Drinkin’ myself blind, thinkin’ I won’t see._  

            I’m sitting with a beer in my hand, and the remainder of a couple of cases sitting beside me.  I thought drinking would make me forget.  The only thing it’s done is made it worse—kind of like the salt in the wound deal. 

            How could I have been so stupid as to confess everything I felt?  Confession is good for the soul, they say.  Uh-huh.  Well, take it from someone who’s been there—keep it bottled up, folks.  Don’t ever tell anyone how you really feel—it only fucks things up. 

_Born to Lose—Johnny Cash_  

            Story of my life, dude.  It’s like Johnny Cash was predicting my birth.   _Born to lose, I’ve lived my life in pain; ev’ry dream has only brought me pain._  

            Summer.  Anna.  Now you.  I had major issues with Summer long before you came to stay.  Then Anna came in, and that made everything that much more complicated.  So, I get rid of Summer and Anna, and then I finally realize my true feelings, and once again—bam, with the rejection.  Rejection and ridicule I’m used to.  But rejection coming from you—the way the horrified look came over your face; the way you bolted and ran—that was a new experience. 

_All my life I've always been so blue; born to lose, and now I'm losing you._   You’re gone; probably forever because I’m so damn stupid. 

_I Fall to Pieces—Patsy Cline_  

            I only thought I was in love before—that was nothing compared to this.  Summer nor Anna ever made me cry ‘til snot bubbles came out of my nose and I felt like vomiting.  Man, if this is love, I don’t know if I like it. 

_I fall to pieces; how can I be just your friend?_ I’ll tell you how; I can’t.  Not now.  You probably don’t want me to be your friend, anyway—I basically came out of the closet and told you I was in love with you all in one fell swoop.  Not exactly the kind of thing you want to hear from someone who professed to be your best friend for three years.

_Is It Cold in Here—Joe Diffie_  

            Yeah, I’m pulling out all the stops now.  I’ve been hoarding this little collection for years now—you’re the only one who knows about it.  I used to pull them out and listen to them every time Summer rejected me.  They made me feel better.  Now, they just make me feel cold.

_There’s something wrong; Lord, I’m feeling a chill that runs through my heart like a torch cuts through steel._   My heart is broken in two—not cleanly, though.  It’s still beating, but every beat hurts, sending cold reaching through my body.  I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again. 

            The look that you gave me.  I told you I loved you; that I always had.  You were the only one I ever wanted; Summer and Anna were simply my ways of denying that.  Even Summer knew;  I don’t know if Anna ever figured it out, but Summer just knew. 

            But that look . . . .  I disgust you.  You looked at me as though I had sprouted another head when I told you.  Worst of all, you know what it reminded me of?  You reminded me of Luke—all those years of him calling me queer.  You never did that—you always defended me.  Did you feel lied to?  Defending me, saying I wasn’t, when actually, I was—I am? 

            God, I loved you for defending me.  I loved you for accepting me—although now, you probably think everything I ever told you was a lie.  And you’ve been lied to enough in your life—you didn’t need it from me, too. 

_The Heart Won’t Lie—Vince Gill and Reba McEntire_  

            Damn right, the heart won’t lie.  You can lie to it, but it slaps you right in the face with the truth.  

_Looking back over the years; of all the things I've always meant to say; but the words didn't come easily; so many times through empty fears._   Man, trust a country song to put everything into plain black and white.  I can think of a million times that I wanted to tell you; meant to tell you; but I couldn’t force the words out.  Although, I guess the fears weren’t so empty.  Your reaction confirmed that, didn’t it? 

_He Stopped Loving Her Today—George Jones_  

            Ah, the song that puts it all in perspective.  Everything else, building up to the sentiment in this song.  I’ve looked back over this, and I realize that it is devoid of my usual sarcastic humor and witty repartee.  You must forgive me for that—I’m not really feeling all that sarcastic, humorous, or witty at the moment. 

             _He said I’ll love you ‘til I die._ Man, George was feeling me right then.  These feelings started the minute you walked in and I asked if you wanted to play video games with me, and they haven’t let up.  Ever. 

             _This time, he’s over her for good._   OK, so it’s a him and not a her, but the sentiment is still the same.  I’ve been sitting here for two days, and thinking very hard.  It’s the only way.  I’ve got the razor blades beside me, and I’ve covered the bathroom tile with a lot of dark towels—I figure that the dark colors won’t show so much blood.  Don’t want to freak whoever finds me completely out. 

            I researched this—I know I should cut lengthwise, not across like they show in the movies.  Lengthwise will make sure that you cut the veins.  And my veins are very visible, I shouldn’t have any trouble. 

            Quick and clean.  One slice down each vein, and out it pours—like Kool-Aid, only thicker. 

_This time he's over her for good_.  God, I hope so.  I can’t live with this pain. 

            I love you, Ryan.  Even if you didn’t—wouldn’t—love me back. 

*******************************************

             _Ryan opens the door to his and Seth’s apartment.  He has taken a couple of days to try and get his head together; Seth’s admission scared him, and he reacted badly._

_The apartment is silent.  The strains of some sad country song Ryan vaguely recognizes drift through the apartment, and he knows that he has hurt Seth.  He hopes that he can make it up to Seth.  During the two days he was gone, he has realized that his feelings for Seth run much deeper than friendship; it has just taken him a long time to admit it._  

_Ryan walks through the apartment; the music is coming from the bathroom, which puzzles him.  Seth usually sprawls across his bedroom floor when he is depressed; this is a departure, which is troublesome.  The bathroom door is ajar, and Ryan pushes it open.  His eyes widen and his chest constricts at the sight that greets him._  

_Seth’s hazel eyes move slowly up.  Blood is streaming from his wrists, and Ryan frantically grabs white towels off of the towel rack and attempts to stop the bleeding.  Seth shakes his head slightly, and the voice that comes from his mouth is faint and dying._  

_“No use, man,” he says, almost inaudibly.  “It’s too late.”_  

_“Why, Seth, why?” Ryan asks, his voice thick with tears._  

_“You didn’t love me,” Seth says simply.  “I couldn’t live without you.”_  

_“Oh, Seth, oh my God.”  Ryan kneels beside Seth, oblivious to the blood-soaked towels.  “I do love you, I do.”_  

_Seth sighs as Ryan holds him.  “Then at least,” he says, “I can die happy.”_  

_Seth’s body slumps in Ryan’s arms.  “No,” Ryan says, gripping Seth tightly.  “No, you can’t be dead.  You can’t be.”_  

_There is no response from Seth, and Ryan cries—great, wracking sobs that say, more than anything, that he is sorry he is too late.  He stays with Seth for hours, and when he finally forces himself to rise, he sees a sheet of notebook paper covered in Seth’s scratchy handwriting.  He picks it up and takes it into the living room.  His jeans are soaked with Seth’s blood; his hands are covered in Seth’s blood, but he pays no attention.  The single sheet of paper has captured his attention, and when he finishes reading it, the tears come again._  

_At last, Ryan picks up a pen and begins to write below Seth’s final words._  

How Am I Supposed to Live Without You? 

             _I don’t know who sings this song, and it doesn’t really matter._

_The answer is—I can’t._  

_I love you, Seth—I just wish I’d realized it sooner._  

*******************************************

            The apartment is quiet; its inhabitants silent after their final words.  Seth lies on the bathroom floor, his face quiet and composed, a slight smile on his face.  If one didn’t look at his blood covered wrists and hands, one would think he was simply sleeping. 

            If one did look at his hands, however, they would see that one of his hands is held tightly by another.  This person’s hand is also covered with blood, a product of the slashes on the wrist; slashes identical to Seth’s. 

            Ryan holds Seth’s right hand tightly in his left; Ryan’s right hand clutches the amended suicide note.  There is a smile on Ryan’s face as well.  This is how they will be found three days later by Kirsten Cohen.  They will be oblivious to her cries of dismay; of Sandy Cohen’s shock and grief. 

            Summer Roberts is the one person who understands.  “They’re together,” she says to herself at the funeral.  “Forever.” 

            There is a light rain falling as Summer leaves the funeral humming a tune that was a favorite of Seth’s—one that makes her smile when she sees the weather.  She looks up and waves, then continues on, singing softly. 

            “There’s holes in the floor of heaven, and the rain is pouring down,” she sings.  “That’s how I know you’re watching, wishing you could be here now.”  Summer stops and sighs.  “Be happy, Seth.  Be happy, Ryan.  We love you both.”


End file.
